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FAIRY TALE FAIRY STORY - FLASH FICTION COMPETITION - PAGE 1

This month's Flash Fiction theme was Fairy Tale / Fairy Story. Group members were invited to write an original fairy story / fairy tale of no more than 500 words. It could be a character taken from a well known fairy story / fairy tale; or an invented character or characters. 


The story itself had to be an original work and not a copy of a known fairy story / fairy tale. 

The competition attracted 26 entries.


THE RESULTS:


1st Place: Mike Lansdown - The Magpie and the King

2nd Place: Geoff Brown - A Modern Pied Piper

Joint 3rd Place: David Elliott -A Slow News Day; Helen Nicell - The Burn; Liz Shaw - Magical Mystery Tor.


Well done to all those who entered; and many congratulations to Mike, Geoff, David, Helen,and Liz. 


Please see below for entries 1 to 19.

PLEASE CLICK HERE FOR ENTRIES 20 - 26 - Page 2 

ENTRY 1

A MODERN PIED PIPER by Geoff Brown

Once upon a time in a land not far from here all the children were bewitched. A powerful spell was cast on them by an evil giant, Iphonius, from the valley of Silicon. Like mindless zombies the children compelled their unsuspecting and compliant parents to buy strange new hand-held devices and continue to replace these with newer and ever-increasingly expensive models.


Soon an eerie quiet descended on the land save for the tapping of miniature keyboards and the insistent beeping of the mobile devices alerting the children to new games or images. Normal conversations ceased as the children communicated through their impersonal media. At mealtimes they were transfixed, staring into their screens. Their behaviour was soon adopted by their parents. It was not unusual for families to sit in restaurants without uttering a single word. Even ordering a meal was done by selecting items from the menu on the screen to limit personal interaction with the server.


Shunning exercise, staying indoors glued to their devices, the children became pasty-faced, introverted and obese with thumbs which grew to twice their normal size. They craved constant novelty and instant gratification. Their attention span became infinitesimal. Their grasp of grammar and vocabulary declined as they were encouraged to reduce communication to a stream of sound-bites. They lost the ability to form real, flesh and blood friendships and came to rely on phony virtual relationships. The children could not be separated from these mesmerising devices for more than a few minutes without suffering withdrawal symptoms.


Iphonius rubbed his hands with glee when he saw how his hypnotic invention was damaging the very fabric of society and the health and wellbeing of future citizens. He applauded the unstoppable torrent of cowardly, anonymous hatred transmitted through the devices. He revelled in the corrupting impact on young minds of hard-core pornography and the objectification of women. He cackled with delight at the secret time bomb he had lobbed into society. He knew the long term impact of the radiation emitted from his devices would wreak havoc on the reproductive potency of future generations.


Iphonius thought he had crippled the healthy culture of the land. But then his mortal enemy from the East, Vlad the Bare-Chested unleashed a devastating barrage of electronic thunderbolts. Suddenly all the mobile devices went dead never to be revived. But bad Vlad was furious when his sabotaging plan failed to cause total societal collapse


At first there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth as the children acclimatised to this strange new landscape. But as time went by they emerged blinking from their isolated lives indoors. They rediscovered the joy of communal play, with games which needed no more than a bat and ball or a skipping rope. The dark shadows under their eyes disappeared. They started to read books made of paper rather than by scanning a silver screen. Family relationships and personal friendships blossomed again. 


The spell was broken and the children lived happily ever after in their brave old world. 


ENTRY 2

THE PRINCESS AND PUPPINO by Ilmas Isard

Once upon a time, in a far off land called Kingdom of Lydia, lived a princess 

named Rose. She was full of joys of spring. An energetic, enthusiastic and 

inquisitive young child of eight. 


Her parents the King and Queen of this calm oasis, with lots of palm trees, 

beautiful lakes and waterfalls, ensured their realm was full of laughter, music, 

poetry and fun activities which engaged their subjects and brought them 

together to create a nurturing, caring and compassionate community, where 

people felt connected, supported and safe.


The queen was expecting her second child and though it was a difficult 

pregnancy, everyone was looking forward to the arrival of a baby boy to take 

over the reigns when the time came. Tragically, the queen haemorrhaged 

during delivery and both mother and baby died, suddenly and unexpectedly.


The whole of the kingdom felt shocked and saddened at the loss of their dear 

queen. Activities stopped and a long period of mourning commenced. It was 

obvious from peoples posture, their long drawn faces and how they carried 

themselves in their daily activities, that there was collective grieving in their 

Kingdom. Even the sky, which was normally blue and sunny, turned grey and 

dark.


The king did not know how to support his daughter or his subjects during this 

tragic and sad time. He himself felt at a complete loss, unable to do anything 

he used to enjoy, whilst his beloved wife was alive. 


He thought long and hard about what he could do to make things a little better 

for his daughter. He wondered, should he remarry, so his daughter had a 

mother. Then all of a sudden, he remembered princess Rose loved puppies. So 

he went in search, all over the kingdom of Lydia, to find the right puppy for his 

darling daughter. 


He came across many cute puppies, but there was one which seemed very 

special, which lived with its family in the woods and roamed freely there. He 

was a beautiful little puppy mostly white, with chocolate fur on the ears and 

tummy. Very soft and cuddly, like a cushion; the family assured him that this 

puppy had magical healing powers. 


The king took the puppy back to the palace and as soon as the princess saw 

the puppy, she fell in love with him. She decided to call him Puppino, as it 

seemed like a fun name. 


Puppino was a very active, excitable and happy little puppy. He brought a big 

smile to all who saw him, as if by magic they were transformed to a happier 

place. 


People would stop and chat with the young princess and invite her to visit them 

in their homes and ask if they too could play with Puppino, to which the 

princess always replied yes, enthusiastically. They were very happily surprised 

by her response, as they valued highly the young princess’s ability to share her 

beloved Puppino with them. They looked forward to a time when Princess Rose 

would be their queen.


And so the Kingdom of Lydia became a happy place once again, transformed 

by the magical healing powers of Puppino.


ENTRY 3

RETURN OF THE TOOTH FAIRIES by John Ward

I wake to the sound of whispering. Someone is in my bedroom. I lie still, listening. I hear them again, the whispers.

Two voices, tinkling, light as a feather.

“Where shall we put them?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did they tell us?’

“I thought you were listening.”

“I thought you were.”

I strain to see through the darkness. There are two small lights, twinkling, no more than pinpoints. Am I dreaming? Hallucinating?

“Who’s there?”

“Oh, I’ve dropped one,” comes a tiny voice.

I switch on the light. 

“Who are you?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to wake you.”

I sit up. There’s a tiny figure, standing on my bed near my feet, and there’s a beam of light, like a little miner’s lamp.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Sylvie, your tooth fairy. I’m sorry we woke you.”

“We? Who’s we?”

“My friend, Plunge. He’s there on the floor.”

I look over the side of my bed. There’s another point of light.

“I don’t believe in ….”

“DON’T SAY IT! “ they shout together. “If you say that one of us will die.”

“Sorry.“ 

Why am I saying sorry? It’s my room. 

“Why are you here?”

“To return your teeth.”

“What teeth?” 

I run my tongue over my front teeth to check if they are still there.

“When you were young your baby teeth came out and you put them under your pillow.”

“Yes. My parents left me sixpences.”

“No, it was us, your tooth fairies.”

“That’s what my parents said but I never believed them.”

The second figure appears on the bed. I don’t know how he got there. He just appeared.

‘Sylvie’s right. It was us and now we’re returning them.”

“What for?” 

I can’t quite get to grips with the fact I’m having a discussion with two fairies.

“Shall I tell him?” says Plunge.

“No, I’ll tell him.”

“Please, one of you tell me.”

Sylvie says, “There are two reasons. First, no child is satisfied with sixpence any more. There are no sixpences and it became too expensive to leave more.”

“Accountants are in charge now,” added Plunge.

Sylvie glares at Plunge. “I was going to tell him.”

“Go on then,” says Plunge.

“All right, I am.”

“I don’t care, as long as some one does,” say I.

“No need to be tetchy,” says Plunge.

Before I can answer, Sylvie carries on.

“We are just overloaded with teeth, all carefully filed away. Think how much fairy power is wasted doing that and imagine how large our filing systems are.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Well they are,” says Plunge. “So the decision was taken at the highest level to give them back”

“ We are downsizing. We have fewer fairies now because the young don’t believe …… Well, you know.”

And they disappeared.

When I woke next morning, I thought I’d dreamt it but there, under my pillow was a little bag full of baby teeth.


ENTRY 4

A SLOW NEWS DAY by David Elliott

The Newsnight planning meeting was a shambles. Raised voices echoed across the fruit bowl on the table and right on through the BBC.


‘We need a proper guest list. No Mickey Mouse D list politicians and biased political commentators. We need gravitas, someone who can light up the airwaves with their wit, repartee and astute comments.’


A general air of agreement rippled through the room.


‘Look we’ve had the last three PM’s, the FO, the treasury and every for and against Brexiteer. Who else is there?’


Everyone shrugged their shoulders.


‘They all act like a bunch of cartoon muppets. Hey! That’s not a bad idea. Let’s get some fairy-tale characters in. They can’t be any worse than their real-life counterparts.’


An assistant opened her laptop. ‘Goldilocks is available.’


‘I’m not having that trollop on again. Last time, her rider included three of everything. No. No. No. Think higher, bigger. Pass me an apple.’


‘What about the Giant from the beanstalk?’


‘Never, all those fe fi fo fum’s, yet all you can smell is his colossal BO. Slob hasn’t washed in ages. Next?’


‘The Golden goose?’


‘Nup, she never lays on air. Can’t perform with an audience.’


‘The Pied Piper is free for a gig.’


‘Do we have to. He’s as bad as Truss. She waltzed off, not with the kids, but with all our money and I hate flute music. Ugh. It’s so eighties progressive.’


The assistant trawled her laptop. ‘The Sly Old Fox? Wait, he’s doing time in Pentonville for PPE fraud in the pandemic.’


‘Why don’t we try and resurrect the career of Henny Penny or Chicken Licken; whatever she’s calling herself these days. Some decent exposure after that three in a bed scandal.’


‘Sorry boss, she was last seen jumping the gates to Buckingham Palace, trying to tell the King that the sky is falling down. Even he won’t believe that one. I say, does the King do interviews? If not, how’s about Randy Andy or the ginger one. He lives in a world of his own and he’s got a book out that is pure fairy-tale’


‘Are you having a laugh? Let’s get that firebrand Rumpelstiltskin on. He’s always good for a slip of the tongue. Pair him up with Mick Lynch and light the touchpaper. A full-blown general-strike, live on air. Priceless.’


Silence.


‘Look am I going to have to call in the Dwarves. Again?’


Acknowledgments floated with the birds that chirped about the chandelier.


‘I suppose Doc could do a piece on the NHS, Happy can cheer viewers up after Grumpy has read the news-headlines. Just don’t let Sneezy anywhere near the cameras. 



10:00 PM BBC 2.


‘5,4,3,2,1 and we are live.’


‘Good evening. I’m Snow-white and this is Newsnight.


With a sweet pout and then back to the thin scarlet lips, Snow-white continued. ‘Tonight, we have Dick Whittington and Sajid Khan. From streets paved with gold, to streets bathed in blood.’


‘Cut to VT.’


Snow-white smiled. Paxman and Wark; eat your heart out.’


ENTRY 5

TOILET ROLLS AND HIMALAYAN ROCK SALT by Sumi Watters

Real life is not a fairy tale. 


Tell me about it.


I’ll wager my life savings that Cinderella didn’t worry about there being enough toilet rolls to last the weekend or whether the salt grinder needed filling. Himalayan Rock Salt. The pink stuff.


As far as fairy tale princesses go, Cinderella had a difficult backstory. I’ll give her that. Not only did she lose her parents, but she had to contend with her wicked stepmother and two ugly step-sisters ordering her around all the time.


‘Cinderella! Bring me my tea!’ ‘Cinderella! Where’s my favourite corset?!’ ‘Cinderella! Come clip my toenails!’ 


Bossy wenches. 


Come to think of it, it sounds a lot like my life. Like Cinderella, I, too, am up at first light, scrubbing, cooking, and doing everyone’s bidding. Every. Bloody. Day.


‘Babes, will you bring me a fresh towel?’ ‘Mum, where are my high-tops?!’ ‘Mum, I’ve got a back pimple. Come pop it for me!’ 


You see? Similarities. 


I know what you’re thinking. ‘But poor Cinderella wasn’t allowed to go to the ball!’


Boo hoo, I say. Get over it. 


Honestly? I don’t understand why she carried on grumbling the way she did. 


‘Woe is me! I shall have to sit at home with no one but my animal friends to keep me company.’ 


I should be so lucky to have a night in all to myself. The opportunity to zone out and watch what I want to watch on the telly? Yes, please. A few blissful hours of cognitive tranquility would be a welcome change.


The dog, by the way, can stay.


Allow me to spell out how Cinderella’s fairy tale circumstances differ from mine. 


Mental load, that’s how.


The mostly unrecognised, generally unappreciated worry work involved in managing a modern-day household. It’s not about the actual physical labour—any ding-dong can separate the whites from the darks, change a lightbulb, or pick up milk (the one with the green cap) from the shops. It’s more about being the person solely responsible for overseeing those mundane but necessary tasks. Remembering what needs to get done where and when. Delegating jobs, but also having to make sure they actually get done because, you know, they seldom do without three or more reminders. I wake up every morning with a never-ending list of to-do items running through my mind on an infinite loop. It’s exhausting. 


Cinderella didn’t suffer mental load. She simply followed orders. If anything, it was her wicked stepmother who carried that thankless burden. It’s her you should feel sorry for. 


Not to be nasty, but I take great pleasure in knowing that Cinderella will get her comeuppance after her so-called happily ever after. She thinks she married Prince Charming, when what she actually settled for was just another mollycoddled mama’s boy who’s never run a hoover. Once the royal brats arrive … LOL. She, too, will get a taste of mental load and all the headaches that come with it. 


Where’s that story?


ENTRY 6

DRAGONLORE by Pat Simpson

Talon huffed a hot spark from one nostril into the huge, stone, fireplace and watched the wood flame. He smiled at the rustle of hatchlings’ scales and wings, settling into place for his special story.


“Once upon a time, when I was only two thousand years old, I grew tired of eating tinned meat called knights who attacked me with spears and swords. I had tried to settle down, first in Scotland. You may have heard of the Loch Ness Monster. Secondly, in Derbyshire, where they still sing about the Lampton Worm. Eventually I found my perfect cave where I was left alone. That was the Era of Meals on Wheels, or as you all know it Humans in Cars.” Talon paused, staring into the fire glow until a hatchling hiccupped a flame, lightly scorching a nearby scale or two.


“What I didn’t know was humans were already telling stories of danger and death in the darkness. Perhaps I had been careless.” Talon shrugged. “One night, very late, Jamie burst into my home. He stood in the centre of the cave, glaring through his tears. ‘Go on then, do your worst,’ he shouted at me. ‘I don’t care! Being eaten by you would be better than living.’ He stood there, chest heaving, defiant to the end.” Talon shook his head and blinked rapidly. The closest hatchlings noticed a wisp of steam rising from his eyes. “I am not hungry, I told him, then lay down and closed my eyes. Eventually he came and curled up between my arms to keep warm. I asked him what he was and he told me,’ Jamie and I am a boy.’ I was shocked when he explained what a boy was. I had never realised humans had hatchlings too. Jamie told me his mother had moved them to a neighbourhood where a gang of boys bullied and beat him. They had dragged him to my cave and pushed him in. Finally he slept but I was too angry to sleep and, for the rest of the night, thought about the boys and, strangely, Meals on Wheels.


Near dawn, we woke to noises outside the cave. His tormentors had returned, looking for his body. We crept out behind them into the fog shrouded morning. Gently, I thought, I tapped one of the gang, on the shoulder, and he fell down. I held him down with my claws, then stamped the ground and roared. The earth shook and a column of fire lanced skyward. The gang ran screaming except for my prisoner. I gave him to Jamie for punishment.


From that day, Jamie and I became the best of friends. He grew into a man but never forgot our friendship. Jamie Green was the one who brought together human and dragon to live together peacefully side-by-side, accepting our differences. We supply dragon-gold and they allow us to hunt in certain areas.” Talon smiled at the hatchlings wide-eyed wonder. “Of course, we don’t hunt humans anymore.”


ENTRY 7

FAIRY, FAT AND FORTY by Helen Nicell

Once upon a time there was a beautiful fairy that helped lots of children, but everything changed. The elfin like face had bloated beyond recognition, porcelain skin now had a grey sheen. Her hair in spikes, more white cotton than spun golden silk.


Tesse O’Shea was right, ‘Nobody loves a fairy when she’s 40’!


Tina scowled at her reflection in the pond, ‘It’s just not fair’ she cried.

Turning away, she caught the outline of her silhouette, additional fairy rings around her middle.  Tina wanted to cut her shadow off and leave it discarded on the ground. Flying took a lot more effort these days. She had to flap her gossamer wings longer and harder to get off the ground, whilst her bingo wings continued wobbling like jelly. By the time she was ready for take-off, she was drenched, perspiration from places she didn’t know could perspire.


She’d chosen the name Tina when she started her new life under the Witness Protection scheme. After the trial she’d been moved to a pretty grotto just outside Glen Shee. Tina was now one of the mountain rescue team, helping walkers and climbers disorientated by the mists and fogs that came rolling over the hills. By sprinkling her fairy dust and ringing her tiny bell, she would get lost boys and girls back to safety.


Tina wondered if there had been any point in taken on a new identity? Nobody really noticed her anymore, it seemed she was invisible to most since she’d moved to Scotland.  She missed her old life, but most of all she missed ‘The Boy’. Her mistake was falling in love with the person she was meant to protect. It had clouded her judgement and she’d breached the Fairy Promise Code.


Things changed when The Boy bought a family to stay. He paid the new girl a lot of attention, Tina didn’t like her. Another girl just spoilt everything. Tina sighed as she remembered the day she’d been kidnapped by The Boy’s archenemy. He was a cruel, evil man with long dark hair resembling black candles. He’d said if she told him where the secret hiding place was he would ensure this new girl would be removed and she would have The Boy back to herself. At the court case Tina tried to argue that she’d told him the secret to save her life. Of course this argument failed. She was under no threat, she was just being used to get to The Boy.


Her actions put many lives at risk.  The secret hiding place was where the Lost Boys lived, they now hated her. The Boy couldn’t look at her, she wanted to say sorry and explain that she’d done it out of love.


She fell in love with the boy that would never grow up, but when they had to leave Never-Never Land, they all grew up. In losing Peter Pan, Tinkerbell lost her youth, her beauty and her identity. Nobody loves a fairy when she’s 40. 


ENTRY 8

A KINGDOM IS REBORN by Chris McDermott

Once upon a time there was a king. His name was King Ruditrude. King Ruditrude looked as though he was made of gold. This is because he had tripped up and fallen into a golden pond when he was a very small child. The pond had been built by the evil demon, Rattertrap.


His golden appearance helped King Ruditrude to impress the ordinary people, who thought that he must have magical powers. King Ruditrude liked to remind the people of this.


‘I have magical powers,’ he proclaimed. ‘And because I have these powers you must obey me. I promise you that I shall make our kingdom of Fantasia great again!’


But the problem was that the King could not stop eating. Every day he ate lots of chocolate, and never did any exercise. 


‘I don’t need to exercise because I am the King,’ said King Ruditrude. ‘My servants will exercise for me.’ But as much as King Ruditrude’s servants exercised for him, going jogging each morning, he did not lose any weight. All the servants agreed with the King that this was not fair. 


Then, one day, a little girl called Vérité came to live in the kingdom with her parents. That day was a special day of celebration, Fantasia National Day, and all the people lined the streets to watch the King go by. He was so large that the royal tailor had had to make a special costume with a cloak for the King to parade down the street, carried by an elephant. 


As the King went down the street everyone cheered. ‘When I make Fantasia great again, you will all be slim and fit, like me!’ he said.


But, Vérité, who was still new to the kingdom, yelled out at the top of her voice, ’But you are not slim and fit. You are ugly and fat’.


A deep silence fell across the crowd, as no one knew what to say. Then a little boy, called Wahrheit, shouted out, ’You’re right. That’s what I’ve been saying, but my parents told me to keep quiet’.


Suddenly, all the people, who had been silent for so long, started to talk. They all agreed with Vérité and Wahrheit.


‘Out of the mouths of babes!’ cried one woman. Because the children had told the truth, all the people felt free to speak again.


Meanwhile, the King was carried back to his palace by his elephant, never to be seen again. People said that he had left to start a new kingdom, far, far away, but no one really knew. 


As time went by, Vérité and Wahrheit, became grown-ups. They fell in love and decided to get married. Everyone in the land rejoiced, because truth and honesty had triumphed. 


Then everyone decided that the kingdom should change its name from Fantasia to The Kingdom of Truth. 


And everyone lived happily ever after. 


ENTRY 9

A CRUTCH IN TIME by Geoff Brown

A long time ago in a far off kingdom a woodcutter’s wife gave birth to a baby girl named Elinor. She was exceedingly fair in aspect with large hazel eyes, lustrous chestnut hair and skin like fine porcelain. But sadly her perfection was marred. She had one leg much shorter than the other.


The woodcutter was heartbroken. He told his wife he feared he was to blame for his precious daughter’s deformity. The previous winter in a ferocious blizzard his axe had mistakenly felled a tree sacred to the local villagers. He and his wife had to flee to a distant part of the shire with the imprecations of the villagers resounding in their ears. The last chilling words they heard as they ran were, “A curse on all your children,” from the mouth of the feared high priestess.


The woodcutter could not afford to buy Elinor a special built-up shoe. Instead, he fashioned a wooden block to go under her foot which he wrapped in place with strips of cloth. He made her a rough-hewn crutch which stabilised her gait. Elinor was a model child with a kind heart and gentle, loving demeanour. After the sudden death of her mother she looked after her father with an uncomplaining diligence which brought tears to his eyes. Life would have been tolerable but for the cruelty of the local children.


Whenever she walked to the nearest settlement they mocked her lopsided walk. “Here comes limpy, gimpy girl,” was a familiar cry. She was often ambushed and held down whilst the bandage was ripped from her foot and her support was thrown from hand to hand. They taunted her as she vainly hobbled in circles trying to retrieve her wooden block. During her teenage years she became a virtual recluse to avoid her tormentors.


As the years went by, Elinor grew into a staggeringly beautiful young woman. One day as she sat on the grassy bank of a fast-flowing river a young man riding by was so bewitched by her luminous beauty that he swooned and fell into the swollen stream. Quick as a flash, Elinor held out her crutch which he caught and hauled himself gasping onto the bank at her feet. Their eyes met and as they later admitted it was as if they had known each other all their lives.


Edmund, for that was his name, was the Crown Prince who was on a tour to familiarise himself with the land he would one day rule. He was totally unconcerned about Elinor’s disability but he knew it caused her great distress. Just before their wedding he presented her with an exquisitely crafted shoe which gave her perfect equilibrium. 


On the big day, in her flowing bridal gown she floated serenely down the aisle on the arm of her proud father. The citizens were entranced by her poise and loveliness.


But sadly Edmund and Elinor didn’t live happily ever after. He drank and she ran off with the Court Jester.


ENTRY 10

SUNSHINE AND SHADOW by Louise Welland

Corinne was a beautiful soul, and full of life. Love shone from every pore of her body, as it had from the moment she had taken her first breath. Piercing green eyes, and spikey red hair, she turned heads wherever she went.  Five tiny blue birds were her constant companions. The flew around her head, chirping happily and darting back and forth playing together. 


With each step that Corinne took, brightly coloured miniature flowers appeared around her feet. Not everyone saw these magical manifestations of her beauty, but lucky people could, and some even noticed the points of white energy emanating from her fingertips.


Corinne lived in a castle. Some called it a tower block, but they didn’t see its beauty as she did.


Corinne had never uttered a word, not even once. She had seen endless specialists who were unable to find anything wrong. Her parents often discussed what her voice would be like had she been able to speak, they were heartbroken that they would never know.


On Corinne’s eighteenth birthday, she walked to the park. As always, friends called out and waved hello, and strangers stared, entranced by the halo which shone around her, and the flowers and birds. She approached the bench where she often stopped, and spotted a dark grey cloud hovering above it. The mist was surrounding the head and shoulders of a handsome, yet grubby and angry looking young man. Someone called over ‘Corinne, stay away, he is dark and dangerous.’


Corinne sat at the feet of the young man and looked up into dark troubled eyes. She placed one hand on his foot and began to communicate through her mind.


‘If you want me to leave, move your foot away’. He stayed still, so she carried on; willing him to hear her thoughts. ‘Feel roots growing down from the soles of your feet, deep into Mother Earth. See a door in front of you. Open the door and walk through, you are totally safe.  You see that dragon? Notice its colour and beautiful face. He is taking you on a healing journey, so climb onto his back and watch what happens.’


They sat for several minutes. She felt his body slowly begin to relax as his eyes gradually changed from deep dark black, to a beautiful olive green. A serene smile began to hover over his lips. The dark cloud above his head transformed to bright turquoise blue.


‘You have saved me’ the boy declared, ‘I am so grateful.’ He looked at his hands and watched light shining from his fingers. He placed one hand onto Corinne’s throat, who smiled shyly and said out loud ‘You are very welcome’.


The couple sat and chatted for hours. He told her about his sad, disrupted childhood, and how he had turned to crime and drugs. She told him about her castle, and about having to stay silent until now.


They had healed each other, and vowed to stay together until the end of time.


ENTRY 11

GRIMM by Steve Clifford

Juno zipped this way and that, dropped onto a leaf here, a flower there, and sipped nectar from a tulip or two, before he noticed something new in faery wood. Noticed, is an understatement. Two giants were blundering through the undergrowth. He tugged on Io’s wing, as she hovered in front of an unusual flower. “Io, look at this! He pointed at the disturbance. What are those two lumbering man thingies doing? Haven’t seen one of those in five hundred years, and here’s two, large as life, clomping over the threshold into Faery land. I thought they couldn’t do that. Pied Piper’s not been around lately has he? Last time he came through here, dragging that whingeing crèche of never ageing infants in his wake, even the travelling gnomes upped caravans and moved out.” They’ll all want passports eventually. You know what will happen then. They’ll want asylum for their parents, and cousins, and god knows who else.”


Io stuck her fingers down her throat, and vomited up the nectar she’d just drunk. “Urggh! Venus fly trap! Didn’t think those things could grow in Faery land either. What’s going on around here?” She scooped a dewdrop off a nearby leaf, and rubbed the sick off her spider-silk tutu. “God it gets everywhere!.. Come on then, let’s have a look at your giants... Ooh! They’re only little children, barely more than babes. Oh shit! That’s how they got in. Look, they’re following a trail of smarties, leading strait from the human realm, right to that little cottage in the wood. The one made of gingerbread, with candy frosted roof. Don’t see too many of those around... Although...” she rubbed her chin, “I have heard of something like that before... Long time ago... Now what was it..?” The silver fairy penny finally dropped. “Bugger! We need to get down there, fast. Whatever you do, don’t eat any of that house. Shit! They’ve gone in. How much fairy dust you got in your purse? Now where’s my wand?” She rummaged around in her knickers. “Ah... got you, you little bugger. It grew to full size, as she pulled it out. Eeugh! Okay, Okay! My purse is full. Where else am I supposed to stick it?” She looked at it critically. “Haven’t used this in a hundred years!” Io breathed on it and gave it a rub. “There, good as new. Follow me! You take the back and I’ll go in the front…


The witch had just rubbed fat on the children, and was loading them in the oven, when Io burst in, in a cloud of fairy dust, with an uncontrolled wand, bucking and throwing out thunder bolts in every direction. Juno had long forgotten how, and so miscast a spell, that caused his purse to eat the witch. The children ran screaming, back through the magical smartie portal. It snapped shut behind them. Io and Juno were left spluttering, as his purse let out an enormous witchy fart.

ENTRY 12

MAGICAL MYSTERY TOR by Liz Shaw

Morgana Le Fay strode through the Glastonbury Festival goers in plain sight. Her Pre-Raphaelite copper curls and ivory profile drew admiring glances, but none guessed that she was a witch. No one looked close enough to see the fairies peeking from behind the flowers in her hair or saw the pixies camouflaged in the folds of her long silk kaftan and flowing velvet coat. As she swept through the site, members of her tiny entourage detached from her and streaked away disguised as flashes of sunlight reflected in the gold thread of her dress. Morgana was in holiday mood today and the havoc they wreaked would be mild.


Gridlock and Slipknot were despatched to the campervans and tents to let down tyres and loosen guy ropes. The twins, Gnat and Mozzie were swinging on the dream catchers and pricking passers-by with their tiny daggers. As Morgana walked past the silent disco she spotted Tressie knotting and tangling the hair of the dancers around their headphones. Sparks was heading towards a fuse box to switch wires, Tipsy was in the beer tent spiking the drinks. Morgana admired the artistry of Lucy Sky-Diamond as she danced in front of a spaced-out hippie dazzled by her rainbow colours and miniature fireworks. Cupid was still asleep in her pocket. He would come out later to fire his arrows through those little foil packets. There would be many young women going home with more than they had bargained for.


At the side of the Pyramid stage Merlin Lockheed was being interviewed by the local radio station. He was bored with the questions about his meteoric rise to fame and his unique blend of punk rock and mysticism. His interviewer was enchanted by him. It didn’t hurt that he was devilishly, darkly handsome, and a warlock. It had been a tedious day so far and he felt strangely unsettled. He put this down to the mystical influence of Glastonbury Tor and the confluence of ley lines, myths and the supernatural. 


Out of the corner of his eye Merlin noticed a little black imp moving purposely towards the off switch on the recording equipment. He snatched at the air and caught the imp by the ear. Sparks squeaked in alarm. Instantly Morgana was there, her green eyes glittering fiercely. The air crackled with static electricity and lights flickered across the site. ‘Oh Hello?’ thought  Cupid as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with his chubby fists, ‘What’s going on here?’ He crept out of Morgana’s pocket. Tressie was entwining copper hair with dark curls; Slipknot was entangling bootlaces and shoelaces; and Lucy Sky-Diamond was sprinkling love dust onto eyelashes as Tipsy dripped a love potion onto lips. Cupid sighed. It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered if he’d got caught in the wrong mythology. He would have words later with his fairy colleagues about job demarcation.  ‘Better finish the job properly,’ he thought, letting loose two arrows from his golden bow.


ENTRY 13

TIMES ARE CHANGING by Chris McDermott

Once upon a time there was a handsome young prince, Prince Frederick. But the prince felt very lonely because he lived by himself, locked away in a tower. His parents did not allow him out because he had a disease which meant that if he cut himself, he would not stop bleeding. They were worried in case he suffered an injury, and they were a little ashamed because of the prince’s problem, even though they should not have been. 


But the prince missed the company of others who were his own age, even though he had many servants who were all very kind to him.  Then one day the prince had an idea. He wrote a note which read, ‘I am alone in the tower and I have no friends. If you read this note, please will you come and speak to me’. The Prince threw the note out of the window, hoping that it would be found by someone who might be his friend.


Just at that moment, a beautiful princess, Princess Augusta, was riding by on her horse. She saw the note float down from the tower, so she grasped it and put it in her pocket.


She was very lucky because, at that moment, her servant, who had been sent by her father to protect her from strangers, was distracted by a lesser spotted woodpecker in the nearby woods, and did not see the princess grab the note.


That night, when she was alone in her room, the princess read the note. She knew that her father, King Henry, would not be pleased if she met someone he did not know, so hatched a plan.


She decided to go out with her servant the following day, as usual, but to take his attention away from her as she passed the tower. Just as they came close, the Princess threw a stone into the woods, which caused the birds to scatter and flutter. Her servant, Plod Dancer, who was a great bird watcher, became distracted, and went into the woods again. 


While Plod was away, the princess waved up to the tower, and her beautiful brown eyes met the deep blue eyes of the handsome prince, who had been waiting in hope.


It was at that moment that the prince and the princess fell in love. They knew that they were meant for each other, and no one else.


In time, they were married and went on to have four beautiful children, who they taught about the importance of respecting yourself and respecting others. 


Princess Augusta showing other young women that they could take on roles that, for so long, had belonged to men. Prince Frederick showed everyone that, even if life is difficult because you have a disability, you should never give up. 


They all lived happily ever after, even visiting the Prince’s old tower from time to time but, of course, making sure that no one else would ever be forced to live there again.  


ENTRY 14

A GRIM TALE by Ann Crago

Pinocchio sat picking his nose.


As you can imagine, given his recent behaviour, this took some time. But he wasn’t in any hurry. His adoptive mother Rapunzel, had left him a list of chores including cleaning up her stray hairs which went everywhere. As he dug deeper into his nose he realised that all the sawdust was falling onto the carpet, adding to the mess already there. Pinocchio sighed and reached for his friend Dyson, the miniature baby elephant. Dyson jumped forward and using his trunk, sucked up all the mess on the carpet in an instant.


Pinocchio was already bored and looked at the list. He had spent a whole week in school before deciding not go back. He realised this might have been a mistake as the list just seemed to be a lot of squiggly lines, if only he knew how to read. But the horrific memory of the woodwork class still made him shudder.


In a rare moment of reflection, Pinocchio knew he should be doing more with his life. He stomped outside and felt the sunshine and the gentle breeze. The Hundred Acre wood seemed to be calling him, so he ran towards the group of trees, which didn’t seem like a hundred acres but, as had missed Geography and Maths, what did he know? He heading for the little bridge, hoping he would find friends there to play with. Poo and Piglet were usually there throwing sticks into the water. And Pinocchio always felt better when he saw Eeyore, who tended to mope about muttering about his mental health issues. But the bridge was deserted and the trees had started to laugh at him as the wind picked up and the sky darkened. Pinocchio preferred to avoid getting wet as he then always felt bloated and swollen.


Following the path, Pinocchio came across a small cottage he didn’t remember seeing before. The door was open and he walked in. On the table were three bowls that appeared to be porridge and even though he preferred Rice Crispies, Pinocchio grabbed the largest bowl and devoured the contents.


Burping contentedly, Pinocchio settled into the big chair by the fire and fell asleep. He dreamt of his friends, in particular the three little pigs and the seven dwarfs, laughing and playing together. He became aware that the warmth of the fire was getting closer to him and he could feel the heat on his face. Alarmed, he opened his eyes and found himself staring into the face of a wolf whose hot breath had woken him.


‘Hello my little friend. Do you want some company?’


‘Oh yes that would be lovely.’ said Pinocchio. ‘I think there’s some porridge left. We can hang out together until this bad weather goes away.’


‘That’s very kind of you.’ said the wolf. ‘But won’t your parents be worried about you?’


‘No. Nobody knows I’m here.’


The wolf smiled as he walked over to shut the door, which he also bolted.


ENTRY 15

PRINCE ALARMING by Sumi Watters

Long ago, there lived a king and queen who longed for a child. After many years of trying without success, the desperate couple sought guidance from a Romani fortune teller renowned for her proficiency and sagacity. To their delight, the old woman revealed that they would soon welcome a son. 


‘He shall be blessed with good health and a brilliant mind,’ she prophesied as she gazed into her crystal ball. ‘In fact, I see the most beautiful being in the world.’


The elated king and queen paid the fortune teller a handsome sum, then returned to their palace to await their son and heir. 


Prince Cedric arrived the following year on a blustery spring morning. Whilst the infant boy was healthy and remarkably alert, he wasn’t what one would call ‘beautiful’. With his protruding forehead, bulbous nose, weak chin, and sticky-outie ears, he had a face only a doting parent could love. You’ll be glad to know that the king and queen adored their son immensely and spent many idle hours admiring their wonderful creation. 


Everyone in the kingdom knew at first glance that their new prince was no looker. It was plain for all to see. But no one ever spoke of his most unfortunate appearance. Instead, they treated the boy as any living being should be treated—with love, kindness, decency, and respect. Having grown up in this nurturing environment, Cedric matured into a thoughtful, good-natured boy. The youngster was often seen about town helping the elderly tend their gardens, distributing meals to the poor, or calling on the infirm at their homes. Cedric was no stranger in the palace, either. He visited the staff daily to assist them with their duties—even the most unpleasant ones—and always did so with a (crooked) smile.


When Cedric reached adulthood, the king and queen invited princesses from neighbouring kingdoms to attend a grand ball in their son’s honour. On the day of the soirée, Cedric paced nervously along the palace corridors. The thought that his future wife—the someday queen—could present herself that very evening was too exciting! Soon, a train of carriages arrived, and one by one, hopeful maidens in frilly frocks entered the ballroom. But the moment they caught sight of the awkward-looking prince, they averted their eyes and didn’t spare him another glance. Some insolent young ladies even whispered vicious words amongst themselves. ‘Prince Charming? More like, Prince Alarming!’ 


Princess Anja, however, did not look away, nor did she utter unkind words. Rather, she asked Cedric to dance. Anja and Cedric spent the entire evening in each other’s company, dancing, chatting, and having a marvellous time getting to know one another. By the time the clock struck midnight, Anja had fallen hopelessly in love with the benevolent prince. 


‘But how could you possibly love someone so … ugly?’ one haughty princess asked. 


‘Whatever do you mean?’ Anja said. ‘Prince Cedric’s soul is beautiful, which makes him the most beautiful being in the world!’ 


ENTRY 16

NEVER TOO LATE by Cherry Cooke

Cindy was contemplating her life and now, in her 60’s, couldn’t help think that it had passed her by. Never married, always looking for a handsome Prince in shining armour on a white charger to whisk her off her feet. All she’d managed to attract was total wrongens in rusty armour riding clapped out donkeys!


Cindy loved her family but because she was the single one it always fell to her to do the ‘family stuff’. Christmas lunch, family get togethers and, for the last 15 years, caring for her Dad and Step Mum. Her two half sisters were always appreciative but never had time to help. Cindy couldn’t help but feel taken advantage of but didn’t have the confidence to stand up for herself.  


Still, there were two highlights in her mundane life. A weekly visit to the charity shop to find a treasure, a book or a bargain….and if she was honest, to sneak a peek at the lovely volunteer there - such a gentleman who always made time to say hello. Then there was the weekly afternoon Puzzle Club. All helped to have contact with the outside world and a provide a welcome break.


Rummaging around the Charity shop Cindy spied a pair of black low healed court shoes very similar to her current pair which were getting rather worn. After trying them on, sadly she decided they weren’t quite right and after a shy smile and a quick wave at her favourite volunteer she started the walk home. Goodness me she thought, these roads are in a terrible state and so uncomfortable to walk on - she was tripping and stumbling all over the place! A call to the Council this afternoon she thought with gritted teeth, thinking of how much she paid in Council Tax.


It was only when she got home she realised she had one of her shoes on and one from the Charity Shop. Mortified and embarrassed she decided she’d have to find another Charity Shop as she would feel such a fool returning it and asking for her tatty old shoe back.


2 weeks later Cindy was playing Solitaire at Puzzle Club. Not many attendees this week and the ones that were there were playing Canasta in a group. Then, something caught her eye and she looked down to see what it was. She gasped as she realised the volunteer from the Charity Shop was on his knee beside her holding her tatty shoe!


“There you are – I’ve been looking for you, I’m Philip by the way”!


After hours of laughter and non-stop chat, Philip invited her to afternoon Tea. He picked her up in a beautiful white Rolls Royce saying “it’s not far, I live in a penthouse flat in the old castle at the top of the hill”.


Cindy smiled, thinking maybe there are Princes and fairy tale endings after all - those sisters are going to have to free up their diaries, it’s my turn! 


ENTRY 17

MUDDLENNA by Jo Morgan

Muddleena’s imagination was a wonderful place to live. Stories constantly flowed. From Knights on white horses galloping across the nation to save the damsel, who by the way, had already tamed the dragon and was thinking of ways she could use it’s fiery breath as an alternative to fossil fuel, but loved the romantic gesture and married one of the knights anyway. To toy soldiers who came to life while everyone slept, and had parties under the dining table. To Witches living off of the land in blissful solitude. Just your normal everyday stuff really! 


As a child Muddleena would spend hours writing page upon page so these stories could live forever. It was only as she got older she realised nobody could read them, in fact, after a while she couldn’t either. You see, the poor girl has been cursed with a neurodiverse brain. Which made her words, and thoughts, swirl. They would sound wonderful in her head but when she tried to get them on paper they got lost on the journey to her hand. Those that did come out were jumbled. It was suggested, that as the journey from her imagination to her mouth was shorter, then her words might not get lost as easily, so she tried speaking her stories. 


The words flowed, her imagination danced and sang and sparkled. Muddleena was in her element. She looked at her audience, wanting to see the joy on their faces as they danced along with her. But the faces looking back were blank and confused. You see, the words she thought she had said and what actually came out of her mouth, were two very different things.


The Mischievous brain nymphs of neurodiversity, love nothing more than messing with her internal wiring. Laughing as they switch the plugs mid way through Muddleena’s ideas. Cutting multiple thought strands every few inches and sticking them together in random order. If these strands were yarn they could be used to make Joseph’s technicolour dream coat, but only if there were time to untangle the knotted mass first! 


For many decades Muddleena let the brain nymphs quash her dream of becoming an author, even though the stories in her head never stopped. And I mean never! Even when she slept the stories and ideas continued. But as she got older Muddleena realised she no longer cared if she made a fool out of herself getting the words wrong. She decided she would laugh along with the brain nymphs when they made her forget what she was doing, while she was actually doing it. She learnt to write notes and reminders. To make lists and charts to help her with day to day life. Who cares if it has taken nearly a whole decade to write just one book. She will be her own shining knight, she might not be able to beat neurodiversity but there was no way she was letting it win either!


ENTRY 18

THE TOOTH, THE WHOLE TOOTH by Susan Bennett

‘What are we going to do? I should have remembered last time she lost a tooth that there were no more left’.


‘Let’s put a 20 pence coin under her pillow instead’.


‘It won’t work, you remember how upset she was last time we tried that. She didn’t even want to exchange the ones we have given her for modern money’.


‘Where does she keep them, perhaps we can take one from the pile?’


‘I have looked for them when she is at school but I have been unable to find a single one in the house’. 


‘Do you remember when we came across that fairy circle in the meadow? She danced in the centre for ages and then asked for those wings to wear so that she could be a fairy too’. Matthew’s face softened as he recalled this early memory of his young daughter. 


It had been a lovely idea at the time to add to the story about the tooth fairy by putting a fairy coin under her pillow, but now they would have to tell her the truth.


‘Give me the big torch and I will see if I can find any more by the river’.


Don’t be silly Matthew, she’s a big girl now and we have to tell here there are no such things as fairies.


Matthew felt sad at the thought of Angelina finding out fairies weren’t real. It had seemed a lovely idea when he discovered a whole cache of these star shaped fossils on the beach on a visit to his grandmother and she had told him that people thought they were coins used by fairies. Angelina loved fairies and he loved the idea of enhancing her imagination. He had offered to swop the stars for proper money to be able to replenish his little stock, but no. Angelina informed him, quite firmly, that she was saving them and had put them in the fairy bank! Whatever and wherever that may be!


‘I don’t believe you’, Angelina said, as she stomped off the following morning, after her mother had informed her that the fairy hadn’t come for her tooth because she didn’t exist. 


In spite of what Ellen had told him Matthew decided to go back to search the beach and the nearby river. Hooray, he found another small cache of these star shaped fossils, gathered them up and took them home, ready to put one under Angelina’s pillow when she went to sleep that night.


Perhaps fairies do exist after all.


ENTRY 19

THE MAGPIE AND THE KING by Mike Lansdown

Long time ago, in a faraway land

lived a king, in a castle, tall and grand.

But though he was rich, and of gold he had plenty

he smiled, almost never, as his life it was empty.

And each day he’d sit in his room full of treasure

and rue the cruel fact that it gave him no pleasure

as the thing he missed most just couldn’t be bought:

companionable friendship - of the commoner sort.

One day there alighted on the royal window sill

a magpie that spoke, said, ‘I mean you no ill

but you’re clearly unhappy and in need of some mates

so, let’s get you beyond the old castle gates!’

Said the king, ‘Can I trust you? What’s in it for you?’

but in place of answer the bird simply flew

and picked up a ring and a bracelet then said

‘Do these make you happy?’ The king shook his head.

‘Alas! My dear magpie, if truth be told

There has to be more to life than mere gold

but tell me, my friend, what do you propose?’

‘Well, the first thing,’ he cawed, ‘is a new set of clothes!

And a shave, and a haircut, so no-one will know

that it’s your royal highness that I’ve got in tow.

I’ll meet you tomorrow at noon round the back

of the old castle wall, by the old wooden shack.’

So the king, as arranged with the bird, the next day

dressed up like a peasant and made his own way

to the woodcutter’s hut for his rendezvous

where the magpie explained what he had to do.

‘Now King, don’t be anxious, and try to relax,

and be sure to avoid all talk of tax.

Talk of sport, or the weather, but one thing is critical: 

steer clear, over beer, of all things political!’

The king nodded sagely and practised his lines

and mentioned (not once) rich food or fine wines, or

banquets or jousting or something or other

to make one suspicious and so blow his cover.

The bird, by now, had grown all the bolder,

listening while perched on the king’s royal shoulder

said ‘Great, you’ve now got it, the alehouse awaits!

I wish you good fortune and a bunch of new mates!’

With that he was gone and the king was once more

Standing, alone, by the thick alehouse door…

…Well, enough to relate, the hours flew by

With such mirth and laughter till sunrise was nigh!

Then the king waved farewell to his newly-found mates

And made for the castle and its twenty-foot gates

then snuck in the back by a secret trapdoor

to his empty bedchamber on the twenty-first floor.

‘Oh my God! It’s all gone! All my jewels, all my treasure!

But, can I claim that it gave me real pleasure?

And - will I miss it? Truly, I’ll never!

And look! In its place - a black and white feather!’

His head he threw back and he roared with delight

And he never more slept a happier night!





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